


Series Eleven: The Slash Edition

by wreathed



Category: Top Gear (UK) RPF
Genre: Arguing, Bondage, Ficlet, Ficlet Collection, Flirting, Fluff, Gay Bar, Hotels, M/M, Multi, Porn, Porn With Plot, Season/Series 11, Threesome - M/M/M, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-08-15
Updated: 2008-08-15
Packaged: 2017-10-22 16:14:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 2,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/239972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wreathed/pseuds/wreathed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Six ficlets, each inspired by an episode of series eleven. Various pairings. Range from general audiences to explicit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Episode One

**Author's Note:**

> Beta by giddy_london.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys go undercover...sort of. Featuring a predictable Vaseline mention.

“This is the most ridiculous bloody situation I have ever been in,” complained Jeremy as he, James and Richard piled out of the stupid Suzuki – pre-police paintjob – and stood in front of the windowless and non-descript Brighton building that they had been directed to.

Getting into the club was surprisingly easy: the bouncer let them all in despite Jeremy loudly replying to his discreet question with a far-from-surreptitious “Yes, of course we’re all gay, why else would we be here?” They were, as yet, unidentified, thanks to low lighting and making eye contact with no-one but each other.

Richard played the part worryingly well. James ran his eyes over what the younger man was wearing – some expensive designer shirt left unbuttoned at the throat, and tighter jeans than normal. “Got into this, haven’t you?” asked James, in as low a voice as the blaring music would allow, bending down behind Richard to murmur in his ear. Richard could feel James’s hair against his neck. “Hussy. Remember, you’re ours.”

Jeremy returned with drinks, possibly Dutch courage, and caught Richard’s single, stifled sound at James’s words. “No being homosexualist with one another here, gentleman. We might get recognised.” He put his hand across the small of Richard’s back, and James immediately berated Jeremy on breaking his own rule.

“Well, maybe a little bit,” he answered to James’s exclamation. “Otherwise we’d just stick out. We’d get recognised.” James rolled his eyes. “Now, let’s just find a gay that would buy the Vitara – that’s the challenge done then, and then we can get out of here. I nominate Hammond to go and ask. He certainly looks the part.”

“Just because I made a bit of an effort at this whole ‘undercover’ thing!” protested Richard. “Jeremy, putting on a pink shirt doesn’t count. And James,” he continued, indicating the other man, whose eyes were darting around the venue dubiously, “you’re just wearing your normal clothes!”

“Looks gay enough to me,” bit back Jeremy, inevitably. James ignored him.

Richard ran his hands through his hair in frustration, slightly ruining its careful styling, making him look guilty of a heated encounter. “I don’t want to do it. I’m not your... _plaything_.” Jeremy and James shared a heated glance at his words: same thought, same understanding, same intent.

“Richard, take the camera, find someone to say that the Vitara is the car of their dreams, and we can leave. Then you can be our plaything. I’ve brought the Vaseline.”

Richard looked over to James, wishing to find respite from their friend’s usual audacity. But James was standing next to Jeremy, the two men almost hidden by the shadows of a darkened corner, and Jeremy had put one hand on James’s arse, tracing lazy circles across James’s jeans with his fingers.

“Hurry up, Hammond,” said James quietly, through gritted teeth.

Richard went.


	2. Episode Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James’s reaction to Richard equating him to comfort. A bit fluffy.

James and Richard were half-hidden where they stood, outside the _Top Gear_ studios. The film of Richard’s ‘Audi versus parachuting skiers’ race had just been shown to the studio audience. Now, the two men weren’t needed, for the moment – Jeremy was filming the _Stars In A Reasonably Priced Car_ segment.

“Do you really associate me with ‘comfort’?” James began suddenly. “Who do you associate ‘sport’ and ‘dynamic’ with? Yourself, I suppose.” James’s tone was jovial, but Richard sensed an undercurrent common in James’s voice when he was far too aware of himself.

“It was just a joke, James. Not everything’s got subtext.”

“Comfort...unexciting? Comfort boring?” James had his face hidden behind his hair.

Richard brushed it away, held it back in great tangles in his fingers. He kissed James loud and long, possessive, a correction for James’s apparent lack of self-conviction.

“Comfort _right_ ,” he said when he finally pulled away, pleased that he had left James a little breathless. “Comfort home.”


	3. Episode Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The night the TG3 spent in a hotel, during the Alfa Romeo challenge.

James could see where their three Alfas were from his hotel room window, parked parallel to one another, together. _Not a very good metaphor right now_ , James thought, as he stared past the words of a book on World War One fighter planes he had open in his hands, trying to concentrate on anything but the sound of the headboard of the bed in the room next door repeatedly bashing against the partition wall, each sound needlessly reiterating the same point. Next door’s room was Richard’s room.

James could hear other sounds too, and he couldn’t drown them out. Louder than the sound of cheap wood hitting cheaper plaster were the sounds of skin against skin, the whispering of bedsheets, Richard’s rapid breaths, Jeremy’s grunts of pleasure as he entered Richard again and again. James knew it was that way around because Jeremy had never allowed _James_ to fuck him, and James couldn’t imagine him letting Richard. James had never found out why Jeremy had never allowed that to happen – they had never talked about what they were doing, much – but he knew Jeremy well, and could take a fairly educated guess.

A month ago, Jeremy had wanted to fuck James on the same day that James had wanted to stop the affair, and James _had_ stopped it, for good. Richard gave a sudden, loud moan; James felt quick tingles along his spine, lust and anger indiscernible from one another, and he found that he could call on educated guesswork once more to realise why Jeremy and Richard were acting with such disregard, such abandon. Why they were making too much noise in Richard's room rather than in Jeremy's at the other end of the corridor, out of James’s earshot.

***

A short while later, James heard Jeremy shut the door to Richard’s room, and James couldn’t stop himself, it seemed, making his own way out into the corridor. Jeremy, with the clothes he’d been wearing all day hastily thrown on – only three buttons on his shirt done up, his fly unzipped – turned around at the sound of James’s door closing.

“James.” He walked back along the corridor to where James stood, and looked older in the half-light.

“You’ve both got _wives_ , Jez,” James said with quiet rage. “You said you wouldn’t do this anymore.”

“Who the fuck made you the morality police?”

“It’s a bad idea. You _know_ it’s a bad idea.”

“Doesn’t mean I’m going to stop.” Jeremy’s voice had gone very low. “Are you jealous, James?”

“No,” James denied strenuously. “I just don’t appreciate your...arduous exercise when I’m trying to get to sleep and you’re in the room next door.”

“ _Arduous exercise_? James, Richard and I were having sex. We were fucking. Call it what it is.”

James blinked and made to leave, but Jeremy’s next words, and something in his voice as he said them, made him stop moving. Jeremy moved his body closer to James, too close.

“So, you heard everything did you? You heard me with my cock inside Richard Hammond? He does this thing – he looks up at you with pink lips, flutters his eyelashes, gives such a drawn out moan – it’s enough to make me almost lose control. Little tart.”

Overwhelmed by the visuals Jeremy was providing and pairing them with the lurid sounds James remembered from minutes ago, James found that his face was flushed and that he was biting on his bottom lip. “Shut up.”

“Then, when I’m about to come–”

James grabbed Jeremy by his right sleeve and moved his face closer to the other man’s. The shirt had been pulled on so haphazardly that James found he had pulled a whole swathe of fabric aside, and exposed Jeremy’s glistening collar bone, a jutting reminder of blurred memories. James’s eyes flashed. “I said, shut up.”

“I’ve seen the way you look at him,” Jeremy countered. “I’ve seen you stopping yourself from even touching him. You want him for yourself. _You_ want to be pinning him down on the bed, making the hotel walls shake. You want him, want him, want him–”

“Don’t think I’m towing Hammond’s car tomorrow,” James blurted out, and felt ridiculous.

Jeremy laughed. “I hope you win the challenge.” The word _consolation_ went unsaid.


	4. Episode Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James considers his feelings on the journey to Nokogiri Yama Mountain.

As James and Richard hurtled, aptly bullet-like, towards the race’s end, James knew that no-one would lay down his life’s path for him like railway tracks. On a Japanese train, it was impossible to get lost. Everything was _on time_ and _clean_ and in straight lines. No room for deviation or incorrect interpretation. The way was set.

Through the hum of sullen, subdued commuters and background electronics came Richard’s voice, too loud. “D’you want a drink, mate?”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

James could not translate the foreign, neon script covering the road signs and advertisements that surrounded him. Nor could he translate his thoughts, desires and intentions into something that mattered, convert the abstract to the corporeal.

He followed Richard’s movements with his eyes, unnoticed, as his friend got out of his seat to move along the carriages’ corridor. Richard’s hand touched James’s thigh, so slight that no-one else could notice, but only as a requirements of his movements. Surely.

Landscape passed James by like a stream of consciousness. He was losing, and he was lost.


	5. Episode Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richard and Jeremy bicker after filming the green-laning/fox hunting challenge.

_“Do you want me to give you a leg-up?”_ says Richard incredulously, in a greatly-delayed echo of Jeremy’s words recorded earlier. Much to Jeremy’s amusement, Richard has the third cigarette in a row he’s not supposed to be smoking held casually between two extended fingers as they both stand behind a convenient wall, slightly removed from where the crew are packing the camera equipment away. “I should’ve known better.”

“You’re my friend. I was being helpful.”

Richard’s tone is full of much put-upon exasperation as he stubs out his cigarette. “Jeremy, you are never helpful. You were distracting me before the challenge. You were trying to sabotage the outcome!”

“Distracted you, did it?”

“Well, yeah. You _groped_ me.”

“Now the challenge is over, are you open to distractions?”

Richard’s eyes widen as he catches Jeremy’s meaning, but he lets them gracefully flutter shut when Jeremy runs a large, almost-gentle finger along the line of Richard’s jaw and kisses him, almost devours him. He is holding Richard against rough bricks, with one long leg shifting forward and prising Richard’s jodhpur-clad thighs apart, Richard’s riding boots sliding across the worn grass.

One of Jeremy’s hands is now in Richard’s hair; the other is closed over Richard’s hip, palm pressed into angles and planes that, by now, Jeremy knows well. “Yeah,” Richard replies in a low voice that he is struggling to keep from wavering, his eyes still closed, as Jeremy’s lips pull away. “I’m open to distractions.” He can feel the graze of Jeremy’s breath across his philtrum, searing into his skin.

“As long as you don’t give me another ‘eye infection’. It was bloody hard to drive wearing those dark glasses.”

“That was your own fault, you stupid man,” Richard mumbles, eyeing Jeremy’s mocking air quotes with disdain. “If you want me to come on your face, you should be clever enough to know to close your eyes.”


	6. Episode Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Others say I was bound and gagged in the locker room.”

“So, James, mate, looking forward to beating Schrick?” said Richard, punching his friend playfully on the arm in far too cheery a manner, even for him. Jeremy was nearby, looking at Richard and unsuccessfully repressing a smirk.

“You know I’m not going to beat him. He’s a proper racing driver and everything,” and there was a touch of sarcasm in James’s voice. “I’m going to lose spectacularly; we’ll have a laugh about it and say it’s better to win world wars than irreverent car challenges, and then we can all go home. Preferably in those Spitfires,” and boyish glee flashed through his features once more at the mere thought.

They were in the Zolder circuit’s locker room, enclosed by magnolia walls and frosted glass until they could film the final race. For the Stig to stride up to the starting line and greatly increase the possibility of a _Top Gear_ win had been decided beforehand by the production team, but Jeremy had made sure Andy didn’t let James know about the plan, and he’d decided to make things a little more interesting.

***

 _“We’ll tie him up,” Jeremy had murmured breathily in Richard’s ear, cameras rolling. “We’ll leave him, flushed cheeks, wanting it. Stig’ll win. And then we’ll come back. He’ll probably beg.” Richard hadn’t be able to rein in a single, stuttered blink, a salacious grin, and God, they’d both looked a sight, identical manic gleams in their eyes. Then Jeremy had spoken again as he pulled away, loud enough for the microphone to hear: “D’you know what I mean?”_

 _“Clever,” Richard had replied, trying not to think too much or let his voice waver. “Very clever.”_

***

“So,” said Jeremy, glancing briefly at Richard. “I think we’ve got some time.” James was sitting in the middle of a wooden bench, his back against the pallid wall, and Jeremy looked at him with soft meaning in his eyes.

“You pair of insatiable perverts,” James said, and smiled despite himself. “Not now. We’re in a _locker room_. _In Belgium_. And I’m about to drive at high speeds. I’ve got to concentrate. Entertain yourselves if you have to, but don’t bring me into it.”

“Alright,” said Richard, and he flexed his feet to raise his height, motioned for Jeremy to stoop down. Jeremy clasped his arms tightly around Richard, holding him steadfast, and they kissed messily and without restraint, tongues visible and audible. James attempted to retain detachment and self control, attempted to focus only on the cuff of Richard’s shirt or on Jeremy’s shoes instead of their bodies tight together, the sliding closeness. But he was helpless; he could never succeed in tearing his eyes away from the two men whenever they fitted together like _that_.

One of Richard’s hands that had previously dangled loose and useless in mid-air, forgotten, stretched forward, forced James’s legs further apart and palmed his crotch so lightly that James forgot for a moment how to breathe. Then, his hips bucked upwards and he moaned, forgetting everything bar the intense desire to once again be trapped between Jeremy and Richard’s tangled limbs.

“For God’s sake, just, over here-” and to James’s intense surprise, Jeremy and Richard listened, and prised themselves apart at his garbled words. They moved to sit either side of him. Richard had his hand curled around the bulge in James’s jeans, watching him with wonder-eyes. Jeremy curved his neck around James’s and began a trail of tiny bites along the curving edge of James’s right shoulder.

“Neither of you – are usually – this selfless, exactly,” said James in hoarse tones, between each hot spike of sharpness. “What’s going on?”

In answer to his question, Jeremy and Richard opened a locker and unfurled a length of rope. They swiftly began to wind it around James’s arms and legs with a long link between both tightened sections. Black as sin and somewhere between coarse and smooth, the rope was tied together by Jeremy at each end in large knots, giving it the look of a two-headed snake. Richard retrieved a rectangle of fabric and shut the metal door of the locker, kissed James on the mouth, dragged one hand over James’s crotch once more, and gagged James with the fabric.

“Nod if you can breathe,” whispered Richard in James’s ear, and James nodded, once.

Richard was panting heavily, and James saw Jeremy look over at him in his trussed-up state, drank him in with his eyes. “You look so good like that,” he said, almost reverently, “ _so_ good.” They had done this before, but not precisely this, it had felt like less risk: Richard had fastened James’s wrists to the bedpost and Jeremy had stood on the sidelines for once, had watched Richard’s cock sink into James’s arse over and over.

James’s eyes were wide, and Richard knew James was expecting his wait to be over soon. Felt a flash of guilt, and lust. Same thing.

“James,” and Jeremy’s voice sounded heavy, “we’ll be ten minutes. Maximum.” James’s mouth would have fallen open in shock if it hadn’t been expertly gagged shut by Richard as his two friends walked out the locker room door towards the track.

“Jez,” said Richard, as he closed the door behind him and locked it firmly in one fluid motion, “we’ve left James tied up and horny as hell.” Richard’s voice was thick and rich, arousal personified.

“Then I hope the Stig is fucking quick about winning this race.”

Inside, James was alone, and hard enough to make his head spin.

***

Twenty minutes later Jeremy and Richard returned, feeling high from daring and victory.

James, unable to move, was sat exactly where they left him. Richard undid the gag.

“Do you have _any_ idea how much I need to come?” Neither Jeremy nor Richard spoke. “Suck my cock, Clarkson,” continued James in a dangerous voice. Now.” And Jeremy felt himself drawn to the wild expression in James’s eyes, and he didn’t think of refusing for a second.

***

They were naked now, sprawled across the floor, sated. James had come first of course, from Jeremy’s mouth and Richard’s fingers, a blissful end to dense frustration. Afterwards, he had watched Jeremy and Richard sixty-nine and come with muffled cries, cocks still in each other’s mouths.

“That what you wanted?” asked Richard, as Jeremy stood up with difficulty and reached for his own clothes that had been left in a pile on the other side of the room.

“Yeah,” James replied quietly, thoughtfully. “Yes, I think so.”


End file.
